


Sherlock v Edna

by belovedmuerto



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Incredibles (2004)
Genre: Crack, Gen, oh lord i really did write this didn't i?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John. Edna Mode. NO CAPES.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock v Edna

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Lord. So once upon a time I said to my beta that I sorta needed for there to be a fusion of Sherlock and The Incredibles wherein Sherlock meets Edna Mode. Because Edna Mode is the BEST. THING. EVER. And despite her diminutive height and the fact that she's animated, she would not be even a little bit intimidated by Sherlock. And Sherlock would be sort of stupefied.
> 
> So she went and prompted it on the kink-meme for me.
> 
> And then I turned around and filled it myself. 
> 
> It's rather disjointed and unutterably silly. But amusing, I think. 
> 
> *Lightly edited here for my sometimes awful abuse of tenses.*

“The coat, darling, we must get rid of the coat.”

Sherlock gasps. John giggles.

“Too much like a cape. NO CAPES.”

The diminutive fashion designer turns her eye on John, taps her cigarette holder against her teeth.

“And as for you. Pah! Sweaters and button down shirts. You hide yourself, your magnificence!”

John gapes down at her. Sherlock chuckles.

“At least this one dresses the part. You are the protector! You must let people know it!”

John blushes.

“Now go, off with you! You must leave me to create genius in peace.” The tiny woman waves a hand— somehow more imperious than Sherlock at his finest— and wanders off, leaving both men staring after her.

\----

Later on:

“Yes, yes darling. I see you have objections, but this can easily be worn under those awful hobo suits you wear most of the time, and it breathes like Egyptian cotton.”

Sherlock sputters. “It’s spandex!”

“It emphasizes your assets, darling. And it’ll stretch no matter what hijinks you and your army man get up to.”

\----

"Sherlock, what has she done to your lab?"

Sherlock lifts his head from his hands to look at John. He avoids glancing around the lab, avoids looking at the lasers and the mannequins and the fabric that is positively everywhere. Most of all, he avoids looking at the tiny fashion designer fluttering about the place muttering about magnificence and hiding one's light under bushels and why small BAMFs need good flame-retardant fabrics.

"I don't know, John," he finally replies.

"I don't think she's going to let us leave."

"Whatever gave you that idea? Was is the triple-encoded lock on the door or the laser pointed directly at it?"

Edna flits over to hush them both and chivvy them further into the corner. "There's tea, darlings. Make yourselves comfortable, this might take a while."

At that moment, the lab door swings open and Molly Hooper walks into the room. Both men lunge for the door, neither of them making it close enough before it clicks shut and the locks reengage. They both freeze to avoid the laser.

"Oh, um, hi," Molly chirps. Then she gets a good look around the room and much of her usual nervousness fades. "Sherlock, what happened to your lab? Are those lasers?"

"Fabrics must be treated with care and precision," Edna replied absently, scribbling furiously on her sketchpad. She finally looks up at Molly and gasps.

"Cherries? Darling, no. You are a peach BLOSSOM. You must be bold, be elegant! Pah, off with that tacky lab coat, turn, yes, let me see. You are lovely, darling. We'll fix you up. Now go away and don't tempt me further, I have to take care of these boys first." But she won't allow Molly to leave until she's been properly sketched. "For future reference, you are a perfect model for some of my more mundane work. Hero work is not as consuming as it used to be."

\----

Somehow, Molly manages to leave as easily as she’d come into the lab. For lack of a better term, she flees, but with a dazed smile on her face and Edna’s promise of a call.

“How’d she do that?” John asks.

“I think the more important question is 'why did Edna let her leave when she won’t let us?' John.”

John has no answer to that, so he shrugs and sips his tea.

They aren’t left alone for long, because Greg Lestrade comes bursting through the door not ten minutes later.

“What the hell?!” Sherlock exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Edna looks up from her mutterings and her drawings. “Silver Fox! Darling!” She trots over to Greg, who obediently crouches down to her level to exchange air kisses with her.

“E,” he says, surprised. “I’m retired, you know that. It’s just Greg, now.”

John reaches over and gently pushes Sherlock’s mouth shut. “Silver Fox?” he asks Greg. “You’re the Silver Fox?”

Greg shuffles his feet and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m retired from hero-work.”

\----

It’s not long before Lestrade realizes he’s no hope of actually getting Sherlock and John to his crime scene before the fashion designer has thoroughly had her way with them, so he takes a cup of tea and disappears in much the same way that Molly had.

Sherlock slumps on the lab stool he is occupying, refusing all of John’s attempts to foist tea upon him, arms crossed and face a storm.

John surreptitiously catches Edna’s attention and makes it clear that Sherlock is about to throw an epic tantrum with his eyes and vague nods of his head.

Used to both stroppy superheroes and bitchy supermodels, Edna takes the hint.

“Darlings, come and see.” She reveals her genius with a flourish. (Sherlock makes note for future reference of her gestures.)

Sherlock sighs in relief when he sees the coat the mannequin clearly meant to represent him is wearing. It’s nearly identical to his own, down to the red button-hole on the left lapel. He moves around the mannequin, examining the… outfit.

“It’s bulletproof, darling,” Edna points out, and John sighs in relief. That will make his life much easier.

Sherlock is still examining his new coat and suit when Mycroft saunters into the lab.

Because of course he does.

“Ms. Mode,” he greets her, with a bow. “Doctor Watson. Sherlock.”

“Fuck off, Mycroft,” Sherlock replies, not even looking at his brother.

Edna is picking at Mycroft’s bespoke suit. “Very nice, darling, very nice. I could do better, of course, but this is a step above the hobo clothes your brother wears.”

“I would be delighted if you would allow me to commission you again, Ms. Mode.” Mycroft hands her his card. “Please send along the bill for your services, and consider me?”

“Yes, yes, darling,” she says with a wave of her hand. She takes the card and tucks it away, before grabbing his umbrella and examining it closely.

“You were able to include the specifications I requested?”

“Of course, darling. Gobblegobblegobble, all this chatter. This is one of mine, is it not?”

“Yes,” Mycroft replies, more than a touch of pride in his voice. As Sherlock and John watch, she taps it in a few places. Thankfully, the lasers scattered throughout the room take care of the bullets before they do any damage to people or hospital equipment. Edna hands the brolly back to Mycroft with a sniff. “I’ve since updated the design, of course.”

“It is vintage,” he concedes.

“I must be away, darlings. Things to do.” She gives Mycroft a pointed look. “I’ll see you in Milan, darling?”

Mycroft beams and nods.

“Wonderful, darling.”

Edna sweeps out of the room, Mycroft trailing at her heels. They are chattering animatedly in Italian.

John breathes a sigh of relief and starts for the door himself. The lasers immediately turn their attention to him.

“Uh, Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” Sherlock is busy trying on his new coat. It has a large number of very well-placed pockets in addition to being bulletproof.

“How do we get out of here?”


End file.
